ActionReaction: Misery, Sarcasm and Cunning
by yuugata no baka
Summary: A oneshot looking at three facets often associated with House's character. Plus a bit of HouseWilson innuendo.


Action-Reaction: Misery, Sarcasm and Despicable Cunning

Another House one shot! These are fun. This'un's just a look at three concepts commonly employed/explored/exploited for ratings in the show. Mostly uncalled for, a bit of innuendo, plus some obligatory House/Wilson.

One brief season three spoiler inside. Just in case, I thought I should warn you.

* * *

_One._

They would often ask him, those who are not wise or learned in his ways, "Aren't you unhappy?"

House would raise his eyebrows with incredulity, pause for a moment to take in the audacity of that double-negative, that petit and hapless phrase, and take a second to realize that some stupid person had asked him that, again.

Cuddy wouldn't bother to listen anymore to House's long and arduous reply, turning wordlessly on her heels and leaving quite hurriedly.

Wilson sometimes deigned to listen, thinking that if he waited, maybe, just maybe, his colleague would reveal a weakness, a metaphorical scar or two, and Wilson, using his medical proficiency, would be able to kiss the wounds better.

Cameron just stared uncomplainingly with her wide eyes lidded; Chase obediently dropped his gaze; and Foreman would stand against the wall in silence, though in his mind he cried on loop "shut up, shut up, shut the fuck up!"

"Am I unhappy?"

"Well, in every one of _your_ definitions, undoubtedly 'yes'!" House began loudly and affirmatively. "In yours, yours, and likely even your definition, I'm positively miserable!" He wagged an accusing finger at his team and anyone else who be unfortunate enough to pass by.

"I live alone, I have no family to go home to and vent my insecurities. I suffer each day in chronic pain and at the hands of those who argue my right to take the medication that placates me. And at work, I'm constantly at odds with those who should – they're hired to do so – trust my judgement.

"But considering my reckoning – the infamous sort that has saved so, so many lives – I am nothing but content. I have a satisfying job where I can employ my skill and I'm respected for my intelligence. I live peacefully alone in a sizeable house where I can hear myself think. And thanks to advances in medicine, I can even find a way to alleviate my crippling leg pain. Now doesn't that sound nice?"

A morbid look at the "glass half full/empty" analogy. And no such luck, House's back as he turns to leave reveals no scars.

* * *

_Two._

"I don't lie! I don't!" House yelled. More explanations on their way.

Wilson gazed restlessly at the view of the field, raised on the balcony, hands on hips.

"Lying and sarcasm are completely different. Lemme show you.

"Lying is when you tell your wife you went out with the guys to have some beer and chat. Sarcasm is when you say to your wife, 'Dearest, I was out having sex with a younger, looser woman because I couldn't stand to look upon your disapproving and loveless face for another minute.'"

"So," Wilson raised an eyebrow, and provoked House with a wait before he gave his response, "If you did go to see the other woman, the tone set by the elaborate sarcasm makes it hard to determine if you did it or not?"

"Whether you did it or not is irrelevant. Sarcasm is employed either to disguise something utterly ridiculous you did, or to flagrantly deny you did anything and point out the incredulousness of asking." House replied quickly, stepping closer to Wilson.

Wilson did not move, still looking off into the darkening field.

"So, if you really were out with the guys, you would be lying through your sarcasm, to say you saw the other woman."

"No," House shook his head confidently. "You would simply be hiding the truth in that statement itself. The sarcastic tone suggests that the very thing you in fact _didn't_ do, was go see the other woman, giving hints to that which you really _did_ do."

"I don't understand your reasoning, obviously. I didn't get your misery-mantra description," James noted with a sigh, turning to Gregory and looking him in the eyes.

House stared back, reading the other doctor's face, chin habitually tipped down, peering up through ashy eyebrows. "You weren't supposed to. It's not your way of thinking, so why bother to appreciate it?"

Another sigh. A receptive, longing look.

"At any rate, when I say I want to take you home and sleep with you, I'm not lying."

* * *

_Three._

Wilson peered across the room at House, who was tossing his ball back and forth, staring intently back at his friend. Like in a damaged mirror, their demeanours vaguely were similar, but behind the faces, drastically different.

"You know, I've thought recently that maybe my 'taking stuff away from you' method isn't a really good idea," Wilson noted, lifting a silver pen and letting the end rest on his lip.

"It's a method, now, is it?" House replied sharply, "I thought it was just you being a bitch."

Wilson ignored the comment, though internally shone an indignant smile. "It seems you'll get whatever you want not matter what I do."

House nodded, eyes briefly closing with the weight of arrogance.

"And then I thought, maybe you deserve it," Wilson said, perking House's interest. The grey-haired doctor placed his ball on the desk.

"I mean, whatever we do, you find a way around it. I guess it was when you were supposedly in rehab, and it was revealed to me you were getting Vicodin snuck in to you. I realized, maybe you deserve all you get, for all of your cunning and sly methods."

House smirked. "You really think so?"

Wilson cocked his head. "I don't really know. My morality still belies the trickster-ly instinct in me."

"Pesky thing, that," House commented. He leaned forward in his chair, over his knees. "So does this freedom to take/have whatever I want . . . does it apply to people, too?"

Wilson smiled a knowing smirk. "I think anyone you can find some sneaky, underhanded way to keep around you, you deserve."

* * *

fin. 


End file.
